


Caught Twice

by WhyYesIamBlonde



Series: Clint whomping time [9]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Collars, Joining SHIELD, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27508042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyYesIamBlonde/pseuds/WhyYesIamBlonde
Summary: Barton gets caught by a team of lowlife's and turned into their slave. Now he has to assassinate some pencil pusher. Maybe he'll be able to ask for a tv if this goes well.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Other(s)
Series: Clint whomping time [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670698
Kudos: 6





	Caught Twice

The assassin headed down from his perch. The task was done. That should earn him a nice reward. He rubbed the skin under his collar. No matter how long it had been since it was locked into place he still wasn't comfortable with it.

A white van opened and pulled him in. They let him crawl into his seat and belt in before they drove off. There were no widows in the back and his seat faced away from the front so Clint had no idea where they were going. The three men checked that he was secure then kept their eyes on the road checking for dangers. 

The house was a simple white split level in the middle of suburbia. There was an HOA and everything. What the neighbors didn't notice was how deep the basements went. 

They parked in the garage next to another white vehicle. The three men got out first then motioned for Barton to follow them. The archer kept his eyes down as he got out of the van. Two of the men grabbed his arms while the other opened the doors. Then they went into the house and down the stairs. 

The basement was huge. It was two stories deep and there were tunnels leading to other houses in the neighborhood. Clint was lead down one of these tunnels until they came to a wide area. There was no door. Anyone could could come through this room and usually did since it was the only way from one of the buildings to the next.

Barton's collar was adjusted to keep him in the area. It would give him a shock if he stepped more than four meters away from the beacon in the center of the ceiling. That gave him the ability to pace between the bed and the toilet but not much further. 

He walked over to the shower in one corner and tossed his clothes into the bin. It took over twenty minutes before he felt clean. Then he toweled off not bothering to put on more clothes. His primary job made that pointless.

"Ah, the archer!" A man in a three piece suit came in. The black clothes were only a shade darker than his skin. He smiled across the room at the man while giving his pale body a long look. "Did you enjoy your time in the sun?"

"Yep," Clint smiled back throwing his towel at the other man's feet. "Those fifty minutes really made my skin glow." 

Even after all this time the snark just could not stay put. That was exactly how the enforcer liked it. His prize possession continued to smile at him waiting to be given his reward. Eric James let the time go for a minute. He loved the impatient sigh the archer eventually gave out. 

"And what would you like for your room?" 

Clint looked down at this. "A radio, sir."

The last few requests were more basic needs than anything. A bed. A blanket and pillow. A small table to put his daily meals. Even a fork and spoon came before anything frivolous though the knife was refused. As bored as the man in front of him was he was smart enough to focus on the needs before the wants. 

"I'll see what I can do," Eric said. "Until then, there is going to be an important guest here tonight. I just am warning you that he likes his boys to be smooth." At that the man turned and went back to his home office to finish some phone calls.

Clint sighed again. He went back to the shower to shave. He hated it here.

______________

"Well, here he is," Mr. James pointed to the man kneeling on a pillow in the middle of the room. Clint wanted to say something but it wasn't worth the pain. He decided to just smile at his captures instead. Smiling always meant less pain.

"This boy? I thought you told me he was an accomplished killer. Not someone who was barely old enough to vote." A short man with a very thin mustache pointed to the assassin.

"He's got over a dozen kills and has made the most wonderful pet," The taller man said as he went over and petted the kneeling man's hair. Barton winced as it was tugged.

"I just want to make sure that my money was put to good use."

James leered down at Clint as he ran his hands over the man's shoulders, "Trust me. It was."

"Fine. Leave."

When they were alone Clint waited way too long for the other man to do something. When he adjusted his knees to a better position the other man finally made his move. 

"Do you know who I am?" the guy that Clint was referring to in his head as Mr. Creepy walked over to him. 

"You're my master for the night," this was an old game. He rarely got to know the names of the men who went through this room. If he was lucky this guy was the normal blow job and leave type.

"Good. Get on the bed."

Crap. Clint hoped this guy didn't like to cuddle afterwards. He got into the bed onto his hands and knees.

"Please, sir. Can I prep myself?" Clint motioned to the bottle of lube on the little table. 

Mr. Creepy's eyes went dark. He gave his assent and started to undress as the slave put on a good show of getting his fingers in and working himself open. It didn't take long. 

When Clint couldn't procrastinate any longer he took out his fingers and announced that he was ready. The other man was on him in a second. No light touches here. The younger man grunted as he was shoved into. 

The pace was fast but seemed to take forever. The guy above him started to huff. The slave's back felt wet with the drool and sweat this night's master was giving off. Clint shuddered in disgust. Luckily the man was selfish and never reached around to see that the slave was only pretending to be enjoying himself. 

After Clint was thinking that the guy was going to lose stamina before he finished he felt a tighter grip of his sides as the other man stuttered out his orgasm. The younger man froze as the full weight of Mr. Creepy landed on him. He managed to keep his arms locked until the other man stirred and got up. 

The older man borrowed Clint's shower and even used his last clean towel. Then he got redressed and left without even acknowledging the man on the bed. Once he was alone Clint took his time under the water and just let himself air-dry. It was a bit chilly but he didn't mind.

_______________

The next morning Mr. James came in with one of his cronies. He smiled down at the kneeling slave and motioned to his companion to put the radio he carried on the table. There was already an outlet in the wall so it was just a matter of seeing if there was reception down here. There was. 

Clint felt emotional as the first notes rolled over him. It was a song he never heard before with a fast beat and garbled lyrics. He loved it.

______________

There was an older lady that came through once a week and collected Clint's laundry leaving behind what she washed from the week before. Clint spent an hour remaking his bed and cleaning the small space. The music continued to wash over him. He fiddled with the radio for a bit and came upon an alt rock station that he liked.

As he sang and danced around the room doing his daily exercises the assassin felt more human than he felt in the many months since he was brought here. How long ago was that? The radio had a station break with a commercial for an upcoming Labor Day Sale. So about a year. Made sense. 

_______________

Mr. James came in but was alone this time. He carried a black folder and tossed in on the bed. He announced they would be leaving in two hours and left to make the preparations. 

Barton dressed into his black uniform before sitting down and reading the file. His new target was a simple pencil pusher for one of the alphabet agencies. The actual letters were redacted. Curious.

His file showed the target to be fluent in multiple languages, various forms of martial arts and even had a warning about expert driving maneuvers. What really peaked the archer's interest was his weapon mastery. The file contained a warning about the ability to use simple objects with deathly consequences. 

This was a challenge that the assassin could sink his teeth into. Too bad the file was almost useless. A few seconds in his scoop were all that Barton needed to take him out. The research guys were pretty good and usually the assassin only had to be at the place and time expected to do his job.

________________

The tracker was changed from the beacon in the middle of the room to the one that the handler carried. An old grunt sneered at Barton that he couldn't wait to execute him if he stepping out of line. "And don't be late. The shock goes off in exactly ten hours."

"Yeah yeah. Same as last time." Barton put on his shades to protect the eyes from the bright sun after weeks underground. They left in the same van as last time.

They drove for a couple of hours until they were in the heart of New York City. He was given his gun and knives. Then he was dropped off outside of an apartment building with no name. 

It was late evening but various people in business suits were still wandering in from work. Clint sat on the roof across and down the street for hours. He occasionally glanced up at the stars but made sure to keep his looks brief so that he didn't miss his mark. 

Midnight came and went with no activity.

Around 01:00 Clint was in the zone. His mind was clear and he was just waiting for his target. His ears perked up over every sound and his skin told him how to adjust for every breeze. He was more than a little surprised to feel a cold blunt weapon being pressed into his temple.

"You will put your weapon down and place yours hands behind your back." The voice was calm and even. 

Barton may not have been schooled but he was very educated in the fine art of trying to feel less pain during a dangerous situation. He carefully placed his rifle down and went to move his hands. Instead of bringing them around the back he made to knock the gun off his head. The stranger knew this was coming and sunk a needle into his buttocks before he had time to disarm his appoinent. As the would be assassin sank into slumber he stared up into a calm face of Agent Coulson.

_____________

The vibrations of the vehicle went through Clint as he woke up in a trunk. He had no idea how long he had been out but it couldn't have been that long if he was still being transported. Unless they were taking him out of New York. 

He was hogtied tight. Whoever did it knew their ropework. It took the assassin a whole half hour to get free.

There was nothing in the trunk to use as a weapon. He patted himself down but all of his weapons had been removed. Wait... his neck felt off. His collar was missing. 

He reached for the emergency latch to find it had been removed. He turned to the seat to find a steel plate behind the cloth. What the f....?

A bump caused him to be lifted up and hit his head on the ceiling. He heard a muffled sorry from inside the vehicle. "Fuck you!" Clint yelled back.

Okay. He probably had a few hours left to get out of this and get back to the Jerk-off brothers before he was in trouble with the boss. Would he be forgiven for being caught? Clint really didn't want to lose a finger. He just needed this Coulson guy to stop and give him an opening. 

________________

It didn't seem to take much longer before the car slowed down. It hit a couple of what felt like speed bumps. A few turns and they stopped. 

Clint brace himself to jump out. Someone knocked on the hood of the trunk. "Just so you know there are five guns pointed in your direction and I really have no reason to stop them."

The trunk opened and Clint just sat up with his arms out. They took him and put him in odd looking cuffs. They circled his wrists too tightly to slip free even if he broke a thumb and were connected by a magnet that they were able to turn off and on with a remote. He actually was not sure how he was going to get out of them.

They helped him out of the trunk and walked him into the building. On the outside it looked like a normal office building. On the inside there was ridiculous amounts of security. They had to scan their thumbprint or eye on every doorway and elevator.

They finally ended up in a level that was at least a few stories underground. They put him in an interrogation room. He rolled his eyes at the bolted furniture and two way mirror. Doesn't every cop show use this room? You'd think they would have something better.

They left him alone for a long time. He spent the time whistling Mozart's Symphony number 40. Well, what he remembered of it. Many many times. Might as well entertain the poor person on the other side of the camera. 

He was done with the glass of water they had given him by the time Agent Coulson finally came in. He handed it to him with a grin, "Here are my fingerprints and DNA but there are easier ways to get it you know."

The agent just lifted an eyebrow and used gloves to hand the glass off to the man standing behind him. "But where would the fun be in that?" he said with a smile of his own.

They both sat down on their respective sides and stared for a bit. Finally Coulson sighed and went first. "So, who are you?"

"You don't know yet?" Clint was honestly surprised.

"We have a really good idea but it would be easier on both of us if you just tell me how I ended up in your sites?"

Clint chuckled a bit. "I don't make those decisions."

"Then who does? Who do you work for?" Coulson leaned into the table a bit.

"Would you believe that I don't even know?" Barton cocked his head and smiled.

"That would be hard to believe. Who sent you." The agent's eye narrowed.

The assassin shrugged and leaned back. "I really don't know."

"Then why did you go?"

Clint just shrugged again.

The two had a stare off for a while. A knock on the door signaled Coulson to receive a folder. He read it for a few minutes. Barton noticed that the agent didn't change facial expression in the slightest. Wow he must be good at poker. Wait... His pupils just dilated!

After sitting down Coulson clasped his hands together, "So, you're the infamous Hawkeye we've been trying to track down?"

Barton was actually taken aback. He wasn't in any database in any country that he knows of. How did they... Oh, face recognition, no! But they probably don't know anything else.

"Get that off a poster?" Clint smiled back.

This time it was Coulson's turn to shrug. "You look good in purple."

"Hmph," Clint folded his arms together and leaned back.

After another long stare off Coulson got up and left. A few agents led Barton to a small room. It looked like a hotel room with a bed, desk, dressers and separate bathroom. Hmm. Might as well get comfy.

___________________

Many hours later there is a knock on the door. Okay.... "Come in."

An agent entered the room with a plate of food and a few water bottles. There was real silverware with a sharp knife and everything. It was the best food he'd eaten in years. Real mashed potatoes. Fresh green beans. Homemade meatloaf with gravy. He was in heaven. If only this Coulson guy was his boss.

After dinner he decided to look around. He put the knife into his boot and tried the door. Not surprisingly it was locked. But the vents were only screwed on!

It was a really tight fit. He focused on pushing into the sides to put less of his weight on the bottom. The last thing he needed was to crash into a meeting.

Over a bit. Up a few floors. Down a bit. There was no plan to these airways. He was used to being turned around at the circus. This challenged him but he managed to keep his sense of direction.

He believed he was high enough to be on the fourth floor when he came upon a familiar voice.

"...not working up to expectations."

"Then what are you planning on doing to him?" A deeper voice answered.

Oh, this could get interesting.

"Move Rumlow back to beta squad. We can find someone else to be the sniper for Delta." 

The assassin could see Coulson through the slits in the vent. He was talking to a taller black man wearing head to toe black leather. And he meant head. Even his eyepatch was leather. 

The man who definitely gave off an alpha vibe sat behind the desk and steepled his fingers. "Who would you suggest."

"I actually just acquired an asset that would be ideal for the upcoming mission." Coulson handed over a file.

"This is practically empty." He threw the file back down onto his desk. The picture of Hawkeye holding his bow high slid out. Along with a list of kills.

"We know what we need to know. He is sly, agile, cunning and one of the best assassins in the business. If we don't keep him we will have a heck of a time hunting him down."

The man behind the desk sighed. "And we can't just kill him now?"

"That would be a waste of a very good asset. Wouldn't it Hawkeye?" Coulson didn't even look in Clint's direction. At the sound of his code-name he jumped and hit his head on the top of the vent. Well, no use pretending now.

He pushed the vent open. The screws had been undone. Someone knew he would end up here.

As he dropped down he saw the dark man's eyebrow raise for a few seconds at Coulson who just shrugged back.

Coulson then turned to him and asked, "What would you say to working for an organization that actually informs you of why we want someone terminated and you have the right to veto the idea?"

"I'm not sure my current employers would agree," Clint leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

"And I'm guessing this," Coulson pulled his collar out of his suitcase, "is the reason you were with them?"

Clint's eyes got a tiny bit wide before he schooled them. "You kept it?"

The suit smiled. "Don't worry. The tracking device is now disabled. And we got some men searching for the frequency to see if they can find any of your... co-workers."

"Look, I'd rather not lose any fingers..."

Mr. Leather cut him off, "And the benefits package includes a lot of resources at your disposal to ensure that we can stop them. IF you cooperate."

The assassin sighed, "And who will I be joining? This doesn't feel like FBI."

The two men smiled.

"Welcome to SHIELD," Coulson said as he held out his hand.


End file.
